


Life's Little Losses

by badgerpride89



Series: Afterword [6]
Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Gen, Tired Peter Parker, Warning: Infertility, peter benjamin parker is a good friend, peter parker trying to be a good spider dad (mentions)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 13:15:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17244896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badgerpride89/pseuds/badgerpride89
Summary: Eighteen months after the collider, Peter B. Parker receives some devastating news.Sterile, that's what the doctor said. Him, not her. Life's really not fair.In which the two older spiders help each other deal with some mid-life issues.





	Life's Little Losses

It’s probably one of the worst days of his life. And he’s had some pretty bad ones. Like burying his uncle. Or his aunt. Or splitting up with his wife. Or wondering if a tiny, newly minted Spider-kid got himself killed saving the multiverse. Thank goodness for Peni and her high-tech world- while he was having a minor breakdown hoping the kid was okay while simultaneously trying to put his life back together, she was building inter-dimensional communicators and meeting the one Spider who could hop between worlds. That first week of not knowing whether Miles had lived or died had been so damn bad. Honestly, seeing him alive, bright and smiling while listening to some god-awful music- that feeling is right up there with MJ agreeing to try again.

It had been slow and really, he wouldn’t complain. They had both changed, after all, and getting to know her all over again had been thrilling, like free falling off the Empire State Building and saving yourself at the last second. He’d gone from the couch to the guest room before they broached The Subject again. That had been a long night. He’d finally told her his fears- letting down a kid who didn’t deserve it, wondering how responsible a dad really could be wall-crawling every night (she’d countered that firefighters and police officers made it work- point to her but they weren’t expected to take on the Green Goblin or Doc Ock), how fair it was to dump such a huge secret on one kid’s shoulders, that there was something really, seriously screwed up with his DNA and they wouldn’t know it until they saw some weird spider-esque thing forming inside her.

That one is why they’re here, at this fertility clinic. They’re both Jewish, after all, so they have a ready-made cover excuse. And honestly, if his DNA had been screwed up, well, that is one thing. This- this is so much worse.

“Mr. Parker? Are you hearing what I’m saying?” the doctor asks, concern laced in her voice.

He must’ve been staring at his jeans for too long, his hands clenching his knees but come on, he’s allowed a few minutes, right? MJ hasn’t said anything either. He hazards a glance. She looks about as numb as he feels, which, given he hasn’t felt this numb since getting his depression under control, is really saying something. He manages to unstick one of his hands and take hers. She holds it like it’s the only thing in the world.

Sterile. That’s what the doctor said. Him, not her. It’s really, truly not fair.

“I’m really sorry,” the doctor’s saying gently as she passes files and pamphlets across the desk. MJ takes them with her free hand. He really can’t let go right now. “I don’t want to get your hopes up but there is a chance that you have normal sperm that’s blocked from exiting the testicles somehow. Testing will involve minor surgery…”

Peter knows he shouldn’t tune her out but he can’t help it. He just wants this meeting done and over with so he can crawl into bed and hold his wife. This- this is different from the messed up DNA he expected. The spider bite has both enhanced and destroyed different parts of his life- finding out it’s messed up his DNA’s ability to split properly would just be par for the course. Instead, he’s got no sperm, period, which is more than likely something he was born with and has absolutely nothing to do with the bite. For once. Even his ordinary life can’t stop screwing him over sometimes.

The doctor realizes that neither of them are really paying attention and asks if they want her to leave or leave themselves. MJ stands, Peter follows. Their hands are still stuck together. They pay the bill in a blur and head out. The bus ride and two subways home, neither one of them speaks. They hold hands as they walk through the mockingly bright New York afternoon until Peter fumbles for the key and unlocks their door. Safe inside, they envelop each other into the tightest hug Peter can remember. He buries his head in her red hair and cradles her head as tears seep through his sweater.

They stay that way for a long time.

MJ’s phone buzzes in her back pocket. She shifts back an inch and grabs the offending object. The alarm is reminding her she has a business dinner with clients and co-workers tonight, in half an hour. She looks up at him questioningly but he shakes his head and curls his fingers around the phone.

“I know you need to talk them,” he says raggedly.

She sniffles. “It was supposed to be a celebration. Congrats on the best ad campaign the firm's ever had,” she chuckles darkly.

Peter winces and she places her forehead against his.

“It’s not your fault, Peter,” she whispers fiercely.

He doesn’t answer.

“It’s not, do you hear me, Peter Parker?” 

He nods but doesn't really believe it. Maybe tomorrow, maybe someday. Maybe never, he was flexible like that. 

“Tomorrow? Over breakfast?” she asks.

Breakfast has become their ‘adult conversations’ hour. That way they can work off any hurt feelings or anger or what have you and come home to a happy evening together. It really beats falling asleep or crime-fighting while angry or hurt.

“Yeah,” he agrees then says, “Just don't...you know.”

Drink to excess. They each had their bad coping mechanisms.

She nods. “I won’t. Are you going to be okay for a few hours?”

He shrugs. He’s trying to get better at this communication thing but he hates that honesty means he can’t spare her feelings sometimes.

“I won’t go out tonight,” he says instead of voicing everything that’s churning in his stomach.

Her eyes widen and fill with understanding.

She kisses his cheek and steps back. “Call someone, okay? Please?”

He nods and she heads for the bathroom. As she closes the door, he darts into their bedroom and practically rips out the bedside table drawer. His web-shooters and hopper clang to the ground. He slides one then the other onto his wrist and immediately feels some tension bleed from his muscles. Yeah, lovely, that’ll be something to mention his therapist, he thinks sarcastically, how the things which so dominate his life have become such a security blanket. God, his head is messed up. Maybe this is a good thing. No, he can't think that.

He sits on the bed, puts the drawer back, and grabs the hopper. The communicator light is blinking softly, meaning he has a message or two. He scrolls through the missed call list and winces. There’s Maria, Spider-Girl of 1013, and some new kid named Gerry Drew on Earth 121212. Peter suppresses a groan. He’s flattered that Peni and Miguel think so highly of him but did they really have to funnel every new spider-baby they came across to him for mentoring?

He laughs, the sound tinged with hysteria. He has two dozen and counting little spider kids out there but he will never have one of his own. Life is really not fair.

But he pulls himself together and listens to the messages. Neither sounds particularly urgent so he sends each a short text, he’ll be in tomorrow and talk then. The hopper does give him an idea, though. He scrolls through the self-updating contact list, now one hundred spider people strong, and stops at Benjamin, Earth 90214.

_Noir, you got a few hours?_

A minute and a half later, the reply comes.

_Plenty to go around._

Peter takes it for the invitation that it is. He straps the hopper to his wrist, tells MJ where he’s going, and activates it.

Benjamin’s world always takes some getting used to. Things that look like a mass of black shadows are often actual objects, hidden due to a lack of light. Corners, tables, people, they’re the most common culprits. Peter’s run into the walls of Benjamin’s favorite bar more times than he cares to count (it’s at least twice a visit). Still, at least the man has the decency not to take too much pleasure in Peter’s fumbling. Benjamin likes taking the mick out of people but he’s not cruel. It’s just tit for tat, as far as Peter’s concerned. Miles’ universe had been so full of color and vibrancy he imagines it took Noir several hours to figure out how to navigate, especially with his black and white vision.

The bar is closed right now, judging by its empty appearance. Benjamin sits at the piano just to stage right as one of the bartenders, Frederick he thinks, preps a pair of drinks. Benjamin’s not particularly good but who is Peter to judge? He has maybe one musical bone in his body. Benjamin is plinking at the keys as Peter takes the table nearest the other spider. In the stage light, Benjamin’s features clearly stick out. His hair’s shorter and darker than Peter’s but the sides are all silver. His face is shorter and squarer and his nose has definitely been broken several more times than his own. For all that Benjamin comes from a dark, gritty world, he looks remarkably well put together- crisp clean three piece suit, cleanly shaven, even his shoes are polished and his pocket square sits perfectly at his breast. He’s biting down on an unlit cigar in concentration as he tortures a melody from the poor, unsuspecting instrument. Honestly, it sounds like Peter feels.

Frederick hands Peter a root beer as Peter sinks deeper into his chair, just letting the suckiness of the day just envelop him. Presumably Frederick hands a drink to Benjamin as well because the slurping of a straw joins the piano. It grates on Peter’s nerves, like sandpaper on wood, but he really doesn’t have the energy to object right now. They all sit that way for a while, Benjamin at the piano, Frederick at the bar, Peter at the table. It’s kind of nice. The slurping gets to the bottom of the glass and the piano is spared another second of torturous work.

He feels Benjamin’s questioning gaze on him but the reporter says nothing. If nothing else, this Parker is patient, for which Peter is grateful.

“You ever think about having kids?” he asks his root beer mug.

Benjamin chuckles softly, closely followed by Frederick’s disbelieving snort.

“Somehow I don’t think that one is in the cards for me,” Benjamin answers lightly.

Oh. Right. Still.

“If it was,” Peter starts again. “Would you want to?”

Benjamin sighs. “Truthfully, I haven’t thought about it. That dream turned to smoke years ago. After a certain point, you’re just happy with what you’ve got and leave what could have been behind.”

And this is why Peter and Benjamin get along so well. Across the multitudes of spider people, there aren’t many who’ve made it as far as they have. Not old, not yet, but old enough to recognize the paths not taken, old enough to have real, true regrets. Old enough to stare down the barrel of life and see the exact moment you screwed your whole life, old enough that there aren’t always second chances and to know that dreams are just that, visions without form. Old enough to know that once you do get your dream, well, life goes on, just as it does after a nightmare. Bless them but the other spiders he’s close to are so young.

"Given all the extra-dimensional little tykes who keep calling and asking me for advice, I'm not sure I'd even be a decent father. None of it seems to be what they need to hear. Or want to hear," Benjamin continues.

Peter nods. Between the two of them, they're handling about fifty little spiders. And that thought catches in his throat.

“My wife and I found out today I can’t have kids,” he mumbles before he loses his courage. “I mean, there’s still a small chance but…yeah.”

“My condolences.”

“She really wants kids,” he says next as a few tears fall into the mug. “And I really started wanting them too. Even though I thought the bite...I couldn’t help it.”

“The heart wants what it wants,” Benjamin replies. There’s a scraping sound and suddenly there’s a grey-toned hand patting his arm. “No matter how much our head tries to protect it.”

“Yeah.”

They sit there for a moment, Peter’s tears falling, Benjamin’s grounding presence. Footsteps echo and approach as Frederick places a small slice of cheesecake and a fork in front of Peter.

“On the house, Parker,” he says with a sad wink.

Peter manages a strangled laugh at the running joke. “I’d pay you if I could,” he manages.

“Don’t worry, it’s coming out of his salary,” Frederick finishes with a significant nod at Benjamin, Frederick’s white hair twinkling from the stage light.

“I get paid?” Benjamin snarks and they’re all chuckling for a moment as Frederick pats Benjamin on the shoulder.

“Not today you don’t.”

Peter’s not hungry but tries a bite for his hosts. The flavors of this world are overwhelming, possibly in an attempt to compensate for the lack of visual stimulation. It’s the chocolatiest chocolate he’s ever eaten, the smoothest, silkiest cheesecake layers, the lightest crust. This is where Benjamin’s world really comes alive for him, in their flavors.

The taste is so overwhelming today he manages only one more bite then pushes the plate away. Benjamin is still nursing his unlit cigar so it falls to Frederick to finish the dessert. How terrible for him.

“Do you know what you’re going to do next?” Benjamin asks tentatively.

Peter shrugs.

“There are things we can do even if the testing doesn’t pan out. Apparently. It’s just...one more thing _I_ can’t give her, you know?”

Benjamin nods and almost subconsciously takes Frederick’s free hand. “You can give her yourself. That will be enough.”

Peter snorts. “Sure doesn’t feel like it right now.”

“It is. And will be. If you’re going to be parents together, it will have to be.”

“Speaking from personal experience,” Frederick says as he swallows a mouthful of cake, “you Spiders have more than enough to give. There’s a reason the rest of us stick around, after all.”

For a moment, Peter contemplates asking Peni for a spider support network, for those family and friends to have one another to fall back on. MJ’s talked to Benjamin before; she would really like Frederick if given half a second. And he would love her like a sister. And having backup communicators at least is only common sense, right?

“Thanks, guys.”

“Any time, Peter,” Benjamin replies.

Frederick nods, stretches, and stands.

“Now how 'bout some real music, boys? Any requests?” he asks as he sits reverently in front of the piano. “Goin’ once, goin’ twice-”

Frederick starts a slow croon tune, the kind Peter vaguely remembers Aunt May and Uncle Ben dancing to on their old-fashioned gramophone. He masterfully swings from one chord to the next, effortlessly drawing his tiny audience into his world. It’s the closest to besotted Peter’s ever seen his counterpart. The music plays on, a gentle balm to the tumultuous day. There are still storms to weather, problems to discuss but for now, it’s enough that there’s one spider person who gets it.

And that, in and of itself, honestly makes the whole thing worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Frederick is the Noir-verse gender-flipped Felicia Hardy. I call Noir Benjamin because he's dark and edgy and what's darker or edgier than going by the name of your murdered loved one which also happens to be your middle name?


End file.
